Romance
by DizzyDrea
Summary: Romance. Over a dead body. It wasn't perfect, but the best moments rarely are. Prequel to Lucky


Title: Romance  
Author: DizzyDrea  
Summary: Romance. Over a dead body. It wasn't perfect, but the best moments rarely are.  
Rating: T  
Spoilers: Nikki Heat  
Author's Notes: Okay, I don't think I've laughed quite as hard as I did while watching this week's repeat episode. I'm not sure I even laughed this hard the first time I saw it. And I couldn't resist writing this, which is only peripherally related, but since it was inspire by that episode, and takes quotes from it, I thought it was fitting to post now. And this can be considered a prequel to my story, Lucky.  
Disclaimer: Castle is the property of ABC, ABC Studios, Beacon Productions and a lot of other people who aren't me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~&O&~

To everyone who asked me for more Castle: It is because of your kind words and encouragement that this story exists at all, and you have my gratitude. This story is for you. I hope you enjoy.

~&O&~

Eight AM on a Monday morning wasn't exactly Richard Castle's best time. But when Captain Kate Beckett texts you before you've had the chance to even think about your morning coffee, you don't argue, complain or even open your mouth, really. You just show up.

Castle ducked under the crime scene tape blocking the door to a rather expensive suite at the Waldorf Astoria. Not your usual murder scene, but then again, with everything he'd seen since he'd started working with the NYPD as a consultant, he'd begun to think that people would commit murder just about anywhere. Up to and including a bathtub, as he'd found out rather early on.

He made his way across the sitting room, smiling at and greeting some familiar faces. It had been a while, but he still remembered the dance. He followed the trail of people until he reached the bedroom door. Stepping across the threshold, he stopped to take in the sight.

The huge, four poster bed sat front and center. The room was opulent, as was the rest of the suite, really. Billowing white curtains on the windows. Plush furnishings. Luxurious cut-pile carpeting under his feet. With, he noticed, bloody footprints that probably weren't part of the original décor.

And in the middle of it all, Kate Beckett, leaning over the bed, trying to understand what she was seeing.

Castle walked into the room, careful to avoid stepping on the blood evidence on the floor. He walked up to the bed and stood on the other side, looking down at their victim.

"That's gotta hurt," he said as he got a good look at the man.

"Suggests this was personal," Beckett said as she straightened up, flashing him a bright smile. "Glad you could join me."

"Getting bored in that office of yours?" he asked.

"I wish," she said, rolling her eyes. Waving her hand at the victim, she said, "Name's Trent Loughner."

"He wouldn't, by chance, be related to the high-end investment banker, Alan Loughner, would he?" Castle asked, glancing back at the man on the bed. The dead man.

"Apparently, it's his son," she confirmed.

"Explains why you're here," he said.

"Yeah," she said, and he could hear the annoyance in her tone. "Got a call at seven this morning from the Chief. He wants me to handle it, personally."

"Which is why you called me," he said, smiling.

"If I gotta be up, so do you," she confirmed, winking at him.

"Anyone told the father yet?" he asked, returning his attention to the body on the bed.

"Not yet," she said.

"I don't envy you that conversation," he said, shaking his head.

Instead of answering, she just flashed him a grin, and he knew he'd be getting an upfront seat for that one. He winced.

"He's not gonna like what he hears," Lanie Parish, their ME said as she approached the two of them. Beckett and Castle shared a smile.

"Let me guess," Castle said, "cause of death: gunshot wound."

"Got it in one," she said, smiling. She pointed at the body with her pen. "One to the chest was probably fatal. The second…well, that one was delivered post mortem."

Castle winced as he looked at the body again. Trent Loughner had been laid out on the mattress, all the covers pulled down to the foot of the bed. His hands and feet had been bound to the bedposts, and he was buck naked. There was one gunshot wound in his chest, and from the hole, it had to be a large caliber weapon. But it was the other gunshot wound that had his attention. Their shooter, whoever it was, had shot off his genetalia. Ouch.

"Who'd he piss off?" Castle asked to no one in particular.

"Jealous lover, I'd guess," Lanie said, casting a critical eye over the body. "Gunshot to his groin's gonna make it difficult to know whether he had sex before he died—"

"I'd go with yes," Castle said. Both women looked at him, curiosity in their eyes. "I'm gonna say our shooter was a woman. She ties him up, has her way with him one last time, for old time's sake, then makes him pay for his…infidelity. Shot to the chest suggests he broke her heart. Shot south of the border suggests she's pissed."

Lanie chuckled. "I'll have CSU bag the sheets, in case there are any biologicals the blood didn't contaminate."

"Let me know what you find," Beckett said, smiling at the other woman, who nodded, then walked out of the room. She turned her attention back to her partner. "How do you know it wasn't a male lover?"

Castle shrugged. "Just a guess. The perfume clinging to the sheets isn't really a man's fragrance. Of course, it could have been a male lover, and the girlfriend caught them together."

"That's…disgusting, but possible," Beckett allowed.

They moved to the foot of the bed to give the technicians room to bag the body, standing shoulder to shoulder as they took in the scene. Castle tucked his hands into his pockets as he watched them work. It was the ultimate in romance gone wrong. As a writer with a fertile imagination, he knew without a doubt that this was exactly where love gone wrong could end up. And even if he hadn't been able to imagine it, he'd seen enough lovers scorned during his time as a police consultant to convince him it was possible.

"What're you thinking?" she whispered to him, leaning over to invade his space just a little bit.

"I was just thinking about how bad it has to get for this to make sense," he said.

Beckett shrugged. "Love is a powerful emotion. Sometimes it makes us do stupid things."

"Maybe," Castle said. "But this goes beyond stupid. Why not just walk away? Lord knows it's easier than doing time for murder."

"That why you've got four ex-wives?" she asked, teasing.

She knew all about Rick Castle. He had a reputation as a playboy and a cad, but she knew better. He was, at worst, a serial monogamist. And never a cheater. He always made sure to break off one romance before starting another. Violence was never an option for him; it just wasn't part of his character.

It was his turn to shrug. "I've got four ex-wives and a trail of ex-girlfriends because I always think I've found the right person, only to find out that Ms. Right is actually Ms. Right-Now."

It was said with such sadness and finality that it broke her heart a little. She threaded her hand around his arm, pulling him closer. They didn't usually do this on the job, but she could sense where his thoughts were going, and wanted to cut them off before he began to brood.

"And am I a Ms. Right, or a Ms. Right-Now?" she asked quietly.

It wasn't what she was going to say; somehow it just popped out. But really, she wanted to know. She needed to know. They'd been together for nearly five years, and he hadn't shown any signs that he wanted their relationship to go any farther than where they were. Which was pretty good, if she were asked. Still…she wanted more. She wanted what her parents had had.

He turned a little, bringing their bodies into light contact. His face was still turned to the dead body, as he watched the ME's staff lift him off the bed and onto a gurney. When he could finally turn his attention away, he looked into her eyes.

He knew what she wanted him to say. Had known it for a while. Kate Beckett didn't drop hints; she spoke her mind. It was one of the things he loved about her. One of a million, actually.

He'd been waiting, he knew. Waiting for the day when she was ready for it. He'd have been happy just being with her, but he knew she'd eventually want more. And strangely, he was okay with that. So, he'd waited, and listened, and watched.

Her eyes, bright and luminescent in the morning sunshine pouring in through the windows, were indeed the window to her soul. And her soul was telling him it was time.

"Marry me?" he asked softly.

A smile broke out over her face. "You're gonna do this right here, dead body and all?"

"We met over a dead body," he pointed out.

"Love at first sight?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Something like that," he said, chuckling. He turned serious. "I know it's not the best timing—"

She lifted a finger and laid it over his lips. "It's not the most romantic proposal I've ever heard of, but it's you. And me. Kinda fits."

He smiled. "So?"

"So, what?"

He turned to fully face her. He didn't have the ring, and he wasn't about to get down on one knee on the blood-stained carpet, but he took her hands in his.

"Will you marry me, Kate Beckett?"

He held his breath while she just stood there, a sort-of half smile on her face, still a bit in shock that he was asking. Shaking her head a little to clear it out, she turned her smile on full-blast.

"Yes, I'll marry you," she said, laying a hand along his cheek. She pushed up on her toes and gave him a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. Pulling back, she smiled at the goofy grin on his face. "But don't think you're getting off the hook. I want a real proposal. With a ring. Maybe dinner. Someplace romantic but not too fancy—"

"What happened to 'Women like it simple. Intimate.'?" he asked, throwing her own words back at him.

"You remember that?" she asked. It had been years since Ryan had proposed to his wife. The day leading up to it had been very…eventful, and that comment had been made early in the day, when Ryan was still trying to work out the where and how.

"You said it," he said. "Of course I remember."

She melted. Even after all this time, he could still do that to her. Their life together hadn't been exactly the most romantic. Being a homicide detective hadn't exactly left them much time for romance. But he'd tried. And mostly succeeded.

She smiled up at him. Romance. Over a dead body. It wasn't perfect, but the best moments rarely are.

"I love you, Richard Castle," she said.

"And I love you, Captain Beckett."

He leaned down and kissed her gently, then pulled back to smile down at her. They finally became aware once more of the activity around them. The CSU guys were busy snapping pictures and bagging evidence. Lanie's team had finally bagged the body and were wheeling it out of the room. It seemed no one was paying them any mind.

Castle surveyed the activity around them, then looked back at her. He winked, then pulled back a little, putting some distance between them.

"Well, shall we go talk to Papa Loughner?" he asked, all business, now.

"Yeah," she said, letting out a sigh.

"Dinner, later?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice. "My place, seven-thirty?"

She winked at him. "I'll be there."

He smiled, then extended his hand, indicating she should precede him out of the room. He began to make a mental list as he followed her out of the room. He'd bought the ring ages ago—he'd seen it at the jeweler when he'd taken his watch in for some work and had known it was the one for her. He needed to make a couple of phone calls at some point that day if he was going to pull off a romantic dinner on short notice, though.

Sometimes, it paid to be a world-famous writer. And when he wanted to pull off the most romantic evening he could think of, it paid big-time. He smiled as he thought of what Beckett would say to that.

"What's that smile for?" she asked him, as if she could read his thoughts.

"Nothing you need to worry about," he said, smiling back.

"Uh-oh," she said. "I know that look. You've got something going on in that pretty little head of yours."

"You'll just have to come over tonight to find out," he whispered into her ear, drawing a small shudder from her.

"Promise?" she asked.

He winked. "Promise. One romantic evening coming up."

Beckett simply smiled. Maybe romance wasn't dead after all. At least not where Richard Castle was concerned.

~Finis


End file.
